Young and Lost
by Cobwebbs
Summary: Alfred was good at a lot of things. But watching and caring for an angst ridden troublemaker like young Master Bruce was - stretching his abilities. Master Bruce is not at home, Alfred goes to find him. A fight in a bar ensues.


**Ok, this was going to pan out as a super series - but I lost motivation. So now it's just going to be one of a million sad lonely one-shots out there in the Bat-fandom.**

 **Hope whoever reads this likes it anyway!**

* * *

Alfred Pennyworth prided himself on being many things. An excellent and capable butler was one of them. His service to the Wayne family was unmatched by any other in his profession.

That job included multiple different works in itself.

Becoming a guardian for a lost and broken little boy was not supposed to be one of them. But it so happens, Martha and Thomas Wayne made him just that after their sad and untimely demise.

That had been almost nine years ago.

Now, that lost little boy was a lost teenager and suffering from anger and bouts of uncontrolled obsession and depression. Alfred had tried, by _God_ had he tried. But the boy had his own special brand of will power and stubbornness that would not bend to any will except his own. And making him deiced to do that was a feat in of itself.

Alfred had tricks up his well pressed sleeve to be sure, but sometimes . . . Young Master Bruce was a bit _too_ headstrong even for him.

His rebellious streak would get out of hand, his need to know who killed his parents grew worse, his ache to do something about it was intense. Alfred could _see_ that, he feared what young master Bruce was turning himself into, he worried how the young man would always be alone and unhappy, he hurt to think, someone with so much potential and who came from such a loving family, could become an empty being with only one thought in mind, unable to love or care or move on . . .

Alfred was mostly terrified that, if Master Bruce did stay on this dark path, he'd inadvertently end up being worse then the darkness that consumes him.

But those were thoughts he entertained when alone in his room, undressed, a good classics in his hand and a cup of hot tea on his night stand. Right at this particular moment he was busy trying to maneuver his way through throngs of wild young people dressed in bare clothes, multiple colored hairs and piercings as they all jumped and shook at the pounding screaming sound their generation called music.

It was a night club, one of Gotham's most popular in the area, all the strange and troubled individuals came here and 'rocked on' as they put it. What, Alfred can not imagine, was the appeal to this hashing and grinding as if they were possessed. But Master Bruce had slipped away hours ago, and Alfred had got wind that he was to be here for some unfathomable reason.

Unfortunately, before he could politely ask the bald barista with tattoos all over her head if she'd seen a relatively normal looking young man, a brawl broke out.

People screamed, and chanted and instantly drawing towards the fight in a ring, sick glee on their faces and-

Alfred felt faint. He pushed and shoved and elbowed his way to the front of the ring already knowing what he would see but hoping against it anyway.

In the middle was Bruce Wayne, bloodied lip, bruised, shirt torn and in a head on fight with another rather beefy lad. Alfred cursed under his breath and was accidently wacked across the head. The elderly man took in a stale breath and promptly punched the lights out of whoever was shoving at him.

"Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!" The crowds grew louder.

Alfred watched in distaste as Bruce dodges a well aimed punch to the face and throws a consecutive two under cut to his opponent. The butler wasn't going to lie, he may have felt a small surge of pride when the bigger fighter stumbled back from the attack. He'd taught Master Bruce how to do that.

The frenzied crowd cheers or howls, Alfred's going deaf, he's sure. His eyes catch Young Bruce as the larger man hurls himself sloppily at him.

"Master Bru-"

Bruce swings down and smoothly round house kicks the man in the face, his hair flicking every which way as he does.

Then the sirens came on.

People froze then instantly ran in any direction. The cops of the GCPD where nothing to sneeze at, time to go.

Alfred grit his teeth and forced his way opposite the stream, he had to get to Bruce before -

A crack sounded off. Alfred winced as he saw Master Bruce get wacked across the head with a wood beam and go flying across the room. _Oh Bloody Hell._

The police swarmed the place instantly, the butler ran to his charge, the cheating opponent sneered at him as he crouches down to his unconscious Young man who is still breathing thankfully.

"Next time, tell your punk to watch his smart ass mouth. Or I won't be so gentle." And he lumbered out the back just as the police burst in, guns at the ready.

Alfred let out a sigh.

By the looks of commissioner Gordon's face, he _knew_ it's going to be a long night.

* * *

 _This is short I know, but just something to kick start the story._

 _Remember, thoughts and questions are appreciated._


End file.
